Spring cleaning

I was scrolling through my feed as I had my morning coffee. I missed the old days when I could read a fresh newspaper in the mornings. But I was adapting and evolving with the times. The museum was arranging a new exhibition; I noted. I clicked on the article to read more and I almost choked on my coffee. As I was coughing and wheezing, I called my mother.

“Archibald! How nice of you to call. I can’t think of the last time you reached out on mother’s day,” my mother answered her phone. I flinched at my full name.

“Hi mother. Eh, mother’s day, yes, yes. Happy mother’s day. Love you, lots of kisses and all of that,” I said. I tried to remember when I had celebrated her on mother’s day last time. It had to be around ten years after the trend had started. “So, mother, I was wondering if you knew what had happened to that old trunk you and father gifted me for my hundredth birthday?” I asked. Trying to sound cool and collected.

“Trunk? Oh that old wood thing you keep in your room?” she asked.

“Yes, the one from India father brought home filled with spices,” I reminded her.

“Oh, those were the days,” she sighed.

“Mhm, so, it’s still in my room?” I asked.

“Oh no. No, no. Me and Louise had a spring cleaning. Since it has been there for ages we got rid of it,” my mother said.

“What?! You got rid of it?! How?!”

“Darling, no need to shout. It’s nothing to get so upset about. You have plenty of chests and trunks and god knows what. You should really learn to let things go, Archibald,” she told me.

“Focus, mother, this is important. How did you get rid of it?” I asked between clenched teeth.

“Well, Louise and I put everything we didn’t need in a spare room and then we called an auction house and they came and collected it. Can you believe it? They even took your father’s old chamber pot! Humans are so funny sometimes. They even payed me money.” I took a deep breath and reminded myself I loved my mother and I would regret driving a stake through her heart.

“You sold my trunk?” I asked.

“I did.”

“Why didn’t you just call me and ask to remove the trunk if you didn’t have room for it?” My mother laughed.

“Didn’t have room for it? Archibald, I own over thirty properties around the world, even more businesses. I don’t have a lack of space, dear,” she said.

“Then why did you get rid of it?” I realised I was started to sound whiny, but I was in a bad mood.

“That is what you do during a spring cleaning. You clean and get rid of old things,” she explained in a voice used for half-witted people.

“Why did you get rid of my stuff? Couldn’t you get rid of yours?”

“I did!” She sounded far too happy at the idea.

“Okay. Fine. Thank you for the information, mother.”

“Are you coming for dinner tonight? Your father and I are having a quiet evening in.”

“Thank you, mother. I have a… prior engagement I need to honour,” I told her.

“Very well, you can come by with your mother’s day gift tomorrow then,” she said.

“Yes, mother. Give father my best.”

“I will.”

I spent the next hour trying to figure out if the best option was to kill myself or to do something stupid. Since I was a coward, I decided the only option was to do something stupid. Well, I should be well versed in that area at least. And if I got caught, my father would kill me, so there was always that to look forward to. I proceeded to my closet. True, the prudent thing would have been to create a plan, but I needed to make sure I had the correct attire for the plan. I huffed. I didn’t really own sporting attire. I was a businessman, one who didn’t like to sweat. But I did find a pair of cotton pants that were black and not too tight. I also found a black shirt with only minimal silver embroidery and the mother-of-pearl buttons were tiny, hardly visible. A black leather jacket was the last addition. Perfect! Now to the plan. I sat down at my desk. I had no clue what to do. This Day and Age there would be alarms, digital ones. I didn’t know how to deal with those. Maybe I could call Charles? He was tech savvy and he owed me a big favour.

“Archie! I almost thought you had been staked,” she answered when I called.

“Honestly, we talked three years ago,” I told him. He chuckled.

“What can I do for you? Wanna go partying? Sick of that solitude life of yours? We don’t have to go out, I could just come over and we could have some fun,” he told me.

“No thank you, and don’t be gross. I’m calling to collect my debt,” I said. There was a moment’s pause.

“Well I never. You are calling in the favour?” he asked.

“Are you refusing?” I asked.

“No, wouldn’t dream of it. On the contrary, I am thrilled to get out from underneath it. It has been like a pendulum of death.” I wasn’t the only one with a flare for the dramatic. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to help be rob a museum.”